Beware, Jedi: The Change Is Coming!
by Micromotor
Summary: Long before the times of Harry Potter, the Veela were divided over staying in isolation and integrating with humans. One tribe of isolationists, fearing the cataclysm that a male Veela could unleash, toss him away like trash. When Jean wakes up, he's surrounded by green and blue creatures, robots, and Jedi? Fate will be entertained for a very long time.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Jean (It's French!)

Chapter 1: Becoming Fate's Plaything

In the Wizarding World, there are a great deal of magical creatures. From Goblins to Inferi to Trolls to Pixies to Veela, non-human beings out-number their human contemporaries. While a few of these species have been able to integrate themselves with humans, most of them prefer to not involve themselves in their bigotry. Even the species that do decide to live amongst them aren't entirely unanimous; there are often sects of races that prefer isolation, where they can still hold some semblance of power.

Even as alone as some groups are, however, fear can override common sense.

"This is complete bullshit! Have I done anything to make you worry about me like this?" The irate young man shouted. His silver hair was flaying about from how much his head was shaking, and his yellow eyes practically _glowed_ with anger. His fists were balled so tightly that his knuckles were turning even whiter than his normally pale skin allowed.

The five elders in front of him merely narrowed their eyes, their only sign of their annoyance. "Foolish boy. You have no chance to live zhrough zhe next month."

The smallest female elder spoke up. "No male Veela has zurvived zheir change in over four hundred yearz! What chance do you zhink _you_ have, especially conzidering your… unique condition?" The other four women matched her sneer. If looks could kill, he would've been buried twenty times over.

The bandages on his right hand were inconvenient, for sure, but they wouldn't get in the way too badly. He hoped. Even if he _did_ lose control and die, there shouldn't be any problems. Every female could go through their Change without raising any eyebrows. But if a _male_ were to be born, it was suddenly a matter of national security!

Worse still is the fact that he couldn't do anything about his situation. Even eighty years past the last male Veelas' death, the paranoia just wouldn't seem to end.

His entire life he had been neglected: his parents had fled the village as soon as they saw that they birthed a doomed child, he had no friends (who would want to be associated with the _abomination_?), and his only job in the village was to be the hunter. Apparently, that was the only place he was tolerated. He didn't even have the French accent that the rest of the Veela had; yet another thing that wedged between him and his 'tribe'.

At least he hadn't been completely neglected with his magical… education. Granted, all he was given were the thirdhand books that had started falling apart, but he got the gist the few subjects that were covered: Charms, Curses, Wandless magic (because they wouldn't waste the time to get the _freak_ a wand), and Transfigurations. He was pretty sure that the Council just wanted to get rid of any proof of their primal magic, and were planning to send them away with their 'failure'.

The young man snorted. "Ah, this argument again. Any excuse to throw away something unwanted, right?"

The elders' eyes were slits at this point, and he could feel the heat rising in the small room. Cursing himself, he prepared to bear with more of the Twisted Sisters' shrieking.

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW DANGEROUZ YOU ARE! ZHERE IZ ZOMEZHING WRONG WIZ YOU! IF YOU ZTAY, YOU VILL DESTROY UZ ALL!"

The head of the Council slowly calmed herself, and a determined light entered her eyes. She was the one that even _he_ had to respect, if for no other reason than because she was by far the most powerful woman in the village. He knew things were going to get worse, very quickly.

"It zeems zhat ze boy zhink he can pull of the impozzible, zisters. Let's zee little Jean survive ze Portal right now."

All his rage left him in an instant, and absolute terror filled his heart. There was no way that they were going to do THAT to him! Only the worst of their kind deserved the pure _hell_ the Portal held inside. The only sounds that came from there were screams of anguish. It was the one thing that Jean feared, and everyone knew that.

After all, throwing up every time he heard the tortured shrieks was a pretty clear sign that he was scared shitless.

And they were going to toss him in there like some kind of serial offender. Well, not if he had anything to say about it. He'd go down fighting, if things were going to be like that.

Jean launched a strong repulsion charm and bolted from the room as fast he could. As soon as he left the tent, he made a mad dash to the forest. He nearly made it, until someone shouted "Incarcerous", where rope quickly tied up his legs. He fell on his face quickly, but not as fast as his stomach dropped. He started flailing wildly, even as he was magically lifted and escorted to his worst nightmare.

As they approached the Portal, Jean saw the rest of the tribe (all female, of course) emerge from their shelters. He saw their eyes fill with contempt, like this was something they saw coming a mile away. _'_ _Lookie here! The failure can't even die with dignity.'_

Resigning himself to his fate, Jean stopped struggling. Everyone was expecting him to have a complete meltdown. _'_ _No,'_ he thought. _'_ _I won't give these… cretins… the satisfaction of seeing me become a whimpering mess.'_ He decided that he would say what's been on his mind for years.

He started with the elder levitating him. "Hey, you think you could make these ropes tighter? Don't worry; my safe word is cinnamon."

To the other hags. He let a smirk etch itself onto his face. "And you all must be having _so_ much fun behind closed doors. I mean, what else would five old and wrinkled women be doing in the same room day after day?"

His smirk flipped upside down when he strained his neck back to see the others that had grouped up behind the elders. They were trying to hide their eagerness, but he could see the poorly hidden anticipation glazing across their faces. "Enough staring, ladies. You all had your chance with me. All any of you had to do was show me a shred of kindness, and I'd have been putty in your hands." He chuckled as much as the ropes allowed. "Then again, who would want to be _tainted_ from my hands?"

His words were having a very clear effect on everyone. The old hags were tightening the ropes and cast multiple silencing charms to shut him up. The younger women's eyes were ablaze with fury, and he could see some hands ignite with fiendfyre. Jean's shoulders were shaking in mirth, but it didn't last long. In a few moments, the arrived at the entrance of the Portal, and he closed his eyes.

Nobody was going to see the tears that were threatening to spill.

One of the other elders spoke, her voice reaching across the clearing with the aid of a _sonorous_ charm. "Today is the day we rid ourselves of this worthless piece of trash once and for all!" The harpies cheered with a harshness that was even harsher than usual. "His parents abandoned him, and all of us kept away from his filth. To save ourselves from the cataclysm that his Change would surely bring, we must make use of this Portal one last time!" The women cheered, while Jean's eyes opened in shock. _What does she mean, last time?'_

His unasked question was answered by the only hag that hadn't spoken up yet. "We cannot risk the chance, no matter how small, that this bastard will find a way to come back for revenge. We shall destroy the Portal as soon as we toss him in!" Her words were responded with a group of cheers so loud that they bordered on squealing.

Jean's chest tightened. He was going to be stuck inside whatever was on the other side for the rest of his life. Two hundred years was a long time to be alone, and that was even if he could age. Against his will, he started hyperventilating, much to the sadistic pleasure of those who noticed.

Fortunately, (or not, depending on the point of view) the one who was levitating him threw back her wand, preparing to eliminate their 'greatest mistake'. As she threw her wand forward, there was only one thought that crossed Jean's mind. _'_ _At least things can't get any worse from here, right?'_

OOOOO

He was wrong. He was very, very, VERY wrong! Things could most certainly get worse.

First came the pressure. It surrounded him on all sides, pressing against every orifice as if he were being buried alive. It was nearly impossible to breath, and he was just barely able to force tiny gasps of air. Though that seemed to be a terrible idea. Yes, he was awake, but he was also conscious enough to experience the sheer agony of the cuts on his right hand deepen.

As soon as he thought he couldn't possibly be in any more pain, Fate deemed that as a challenge. The cuts began to spread up his arm, slicing even deeper through the muscle than in his hand. He knew that even if he could stay alive through this, his right arm will be useless for a long time to come.

As horrible as the pressure seemed to be now, things were going to deteriorate even further. Now it felt like there was a presence trying to examine him, as if his worth was being judged.

Jean decided that enough was enough. With the remnants of his consciousness, he focused all his efforts in repelling whatever was trying to mentally dissect him.

It was definitely harder than he expected. While he was still with the Veela, they would use their _superior_ Allure to draw out his newly-discovered hormones. When he would get too close, they would scream and use their 'pure' magic to push him as deeply into the ground as possible. He was eventually able to form a fairly strong resistance, much to their annoyance. The day before he was forced into this exile, the five most physically attractive women cranked up their Allure as high as they could. Jean was able to last through ten minutes of watching them slowly disrobe, purring his name with half-lidded eyes, before his body unwillingly inched its way over to them. He thought that was impressive.

This force made the others feel like a child begging for candy from their parents. Whereas the asshole women took advantage of his teenage hormones, this felt like a hammer drilling into his mind. No matter how much he guarded his inner mind, he knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn't hold the demanding presence any longer.

Time seemed to stretch on for hours before the hammer slowed its assault, recoiling in… surprise? Whatever the reason, Jean was grateful for the respite. The force left his mind, and time seemed to quicken once again. The squeezing returned, but now there was a tiny speck of light that was rapidly growing larger. He tried to brace himself for wherever the light was going to lead him.

He had a gut feeling that his life was about to suck a _lot_ more than before. Cursing Fate for her sense of humor, Jean stared into the light, prepared for whatever he was about to be thrown into.

 _'_ _Out of the ropes, and into the fiendfyre… this'll be_ so _much fun.'_

OOOOO

The first thing Jean noticed was how huge everything was. Buildings that loomed higher than some mountains surrounded him, so high that he could barely see the sky. There were flickering lights as far as his eyes could see, far brighter than any pitiful campfire his former 'companions' bothered to light. There also seemed to be large flying carts going faster than anyone in his ex-village could fly.

What was most jarring, however, were the different types of people: Some were green with black eyes and a narrow, circular mouth, some were shades of pink or blue or a light brown, with a pair of tentacles extending from their heads, which ranged in length from just below their shoulders to the bottom of their backs, and there were even creatures of metal holding some sort of weapon with a rod at the edge.

Realizing that he didn't recognize a single word that was being spoken around him, he silently cast a translation charm. The loud voices quickly made themselves understandable to him, and hearing about the 'good times' being promised left very little to his already perverted imagination. Once he finally took a full look around where he was going, he saw something that made his blood boil.

A red-skinned child with twin blue-white horns was being draped over one of those Metal Things, and there was a group of the wrinkled, green-skinned creatures surrounding the metal thing. They were pointing at the child with their circular weapons, occasionally slamming their butts into her skull. Jean let out a growl, and began approaching the group.

The Metal Thing stopped in its tracks, turning to face the approaching man. The Green People quickly followed suit, and quickly pointe their… their _guns_ (thank you, language charm!) at him.

The Metal Thi—droid. It was a droid! "Unidentifiable creature, state your purpose. If you do not, you shall be eliminated." The Green People (Rodians, Jean. Rodians!) narrowed their eyes at who they saw as an annoying goody-two-shoes that was about to be filled with plasma. Hell, he already looked the part with the amount of blood dripping down his arm.

The male Veela fought back his sudden nervousness, and cleared his throat. "Who is that child on your shoulder, and why are you beating her with your… guns?"

Whatever response he was expecting, laughter certainly wasn't one of them. The Rodians were clearly sharing a joke at his expense. He didn't see the humor in beating a child, and his distaste in their fun made them laugh even harder.

Once they finally recovered from their hysterics, one of the green beings was finally able to speak. "This, _boy_ , is one of the Jedi scum. The bane of mercenaries everywhere, and we finally struck a blow against them! This girl was wandering around, and we decided that she needed to be taught some manners before she became all high and mighty like the rest of her kind." When he finally stopped speaking, he rose what looked to be his eyebrow. "You _do_ know what a Jedi is, right? You humans seem to fall all over yourselves to their every whim. Did you come to beg to exchange yourself for the girl? You don't look like you'd be worth even half a credit."

Jean rose his eyebrow and looked at the Rodian as if he was crazy. Well, he surmised, since he was getting his kicks from beating children, he was probably at least halfway to the looney bin. "Nope. Never heard of them. All I see are some green people and a robot holding a little girl hostage. You must feel so proud of yourselves!" His eyes narrowed, and he flared his Magic at the group. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like you to let her go."

At this, all the ambient noise stopped, and he felt hundreds of eyes zero in on him at once. The Rodians in front of him took a nervous step back, suddenly wary of this bloody newcomer. Even the droid briefly retreated from him, like a deer that just spotted a hunter.

Hearing the clicking of what he felt were hundreds of guns (what did they call them? Blastie rifles? Bastard rifles? I got it…Blaster Rifles!) he raised his good hand towards the mercenaries, gathered as much power as he could, and shouted the one spell he _knew_ would be strong enough to stop the four of them.

"Levicorpus!"

One moment, the droid and Rodians were standing still, holding their weapons. The next, they were flipped upside down, screaming (yes, even the robot) and dropping everything in their arms, desperate to save themselves. Their rifles clattered to the ground.

As did the girl on the robot.

Berating himself for his carelessness, Jean sprinted to pick her up. He looked up, and gulped; he read the theory on apparating, but never had a chance to practice. Now, the only place to teleport to was hundreds of feet in the air.

He spent a second gathering his bearings, and another to build his magic again. _'_ _Well, it's now or never, dummy. You always wanted to climb mountains. Now, you can cheat the climb!'_ Taking one last deep breath, he popped away from the ground.

And two feet below the roof of the building he was aiming for.

Letting out a _very_ unmanly scream, he latched onto the ledge with his free arm. Hissing in pain, he belatedly realized that he reached out with his mangled arm. Before his grip could slip, he tossed the red-skinned girl up to the roof. Fortunately, he succeeded. She was on the roof.

Unfortunately, his arm let out a trio of pops, and he let out a scream that echoed for what seemed like miles around. Looking down, he saw that the group he hexed, as well as the people around them, snapped their eyes up to look at him. A moment passed before they came to their senses, and they started firing their guns at him.

As quickly as he could, he vaulted himself over to the roof, but not before he received a few rewards for his efforts. Namely, two shots landing on his right thigh and another grazing his right shoulder. His entire body started to burn, and he knew he didn't have long. If there were that many people on the lowest level, he could only imagine how many more were inside the building.

As if praying to the deity of horrible, terrible, no good, very bad luck, the door leading to the roof burst open, and at least a dozen surrounded the two of them. Looking around once again, Jean grabbed the girl and took one more leap of faith…

OOOOO

Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was in a very tight situation. He was tasked with watching over the younglings while Master Yoda was away on a visit to Kashyyyk. He had just received word from his old apprentice that there was another uprising in Geonosis, and that he would appreciate his diplomatic skills.

Actually, his exact words were "Get your ass over here and use your magical charm to get these damned bugs drooling in your hand like last time!"

Entertained by Anakin's annoyance at having to deal with the Geonosians, he missed one of the learners disappearing through the vents leading outside. Doing a quick sweep of the room, he saw that it was Ahsoka Tano that had pulled another disappearing act.

He sighed. Even his patience would be tested if she were to be his padawan. "At this rate, she'll be the only padawan to reach fourteen _before_ being accepted by a master." He appreciated some spunk every so often (he had _Anakin_ as an apprentice, after all), the Togruta was bordering on excessive.

Quickly exiting the Jedi Temple after asking Aayla Secura to watch over the rest of the children, Obi-Wan sprinted after the wandering girl. Using the force to guide him, he searched for the wandering learner. Ahsoka's enthusiasm would be very present in her aura, as she hadn't yet learned to tame her wild side.

When he located her Force Signature, his light-hearted aggravation came to an end.

Ahsoka was very, very weak. He could tell that she was at least knocked out, perhaps worse. He also noted how there was another presence nearby, one that he had never seen before. He saw that the unknown person was constantly moving with her, gradually coming closer to his position.

When he expanded his senses, he saw that there were at least a _hundred_ others pursuing them, and they were steadily gaining on them.

As he was about to leap towards their latest position, he heard a popping noise in front of him, and the sight he was greeted with would haunt his dreams for months to come.

Ahsoka was fine, for the most part. She was bruised on her head, her lip was split, and one of her legs was decorated with a long gash.

That wasn't good, by any stretch of the imagination, but at least she wasn't as badly injured as the man below her. For starters, his entire right arm was covered in cuts and caked in blood. Both of his legs looked like they had blaster burns covering them, as well as the top of his right shoulder. His face was a mess: bits of ground were stuck _inside_ his cheeks, both of his lips were split, and his jaw looked like a Wookie had socked him. Overall, he looked like he just went through hell, and he only saw the front of his body!

The bearded Jedi Master made a snap decision, one that he knew he would never regret for the rest of his days.

He picked up both Ahsoka and the man (who couldn't even open his eyes!) and headed to the Jedi Temple as quickly as he could. He rapidly outpaced his followers despite the extra weight holding him down with the aid of the Force. In about half the time it took him to reach the spot that he found the two injured, he arrived back at the Temple.

Ignoring the greetings that the Jedi Knights gave him, as well as the horrified gasps that followed, Obi-Wan rushed to the Bacta-Bay. The staff took one look at the bodies he was carrying before pulling out two more Bacta-Tanks and placing the wounded duo inside them.

After a few minutes, he saw Ahsoka's readings stabilize. She was going to make a full recovery, thankfully.

Her savior, however, was fading fast. His heartrate was falling, his breathing was getting shallower, and the wounds were healing far too slow to make a recovery in time.

"Dammit!" Kenobi muttered, pounding his fist into a wall, creating a small crater. "You've done so much for one of our own. Don't die on me now!"

OOOOO

For once, Jean knew that he was going to do something incredibly stupid, and was going to regret it. Saving the life of an innocent girl, however, would make at least one thing go right in his miserable life.

He was going to apparate.

In a straight line.

Repeatedly.

It was the only thing he could see that would work. He knew that sooner or later his magic would run out, and going up and down building would just wear him out more. The only choice was to go straight ahead, as quickly as his dwindling supply of magic would allow.

And so, he began with the first teleportation off the roof. Later, he would realize that he could have just gone straight to the ground, but later wasn't now. His first pop left him and the girl a hundred feet in the air. Frantically, he apparated twice more, cutting the fall to a manageable twenty feet. His jaw still managed to land on the ground first, breaking it completely, but he had to keep trudging on.

The next three pops were each rewarded with another bullet burning his legs. He ignored the increasingly demanding urge to stop and rest for a moment. If he stopped, she would die. He could NOT let that happen.

Jean snapped at his body and dwindling reservoir of magic. _'_ _Come on, you lazy bastard! I need more juice, so stop being lazy and just_ give me some! _'_ Thankfully, his body responded with another two pops, even though they were only fifty feet each, less than a quarter of his original jumps. Begging his body for one more leap, he poured every bit of energy he had into this last apparition. He was not disappointed.

Instead of the usual two-hundred feet per jump, Jean managed to go over a thousand feet, and landed right in front of a man who looked a lot kinder than the ones chasing him. He tried to smile at him, but it took all his strength to keep himself awake.

Magical exhaustion was setting in with a vengeance, to put it mildly.

Groaning at the sensation of being lifted in the air, something he had never felt before. He was able to crack an eye open to look at his mysterious savior. He looked like he would be in his mid-thirties, with his very brown, very thick beard standing out like a sore thumb. _'_ _Maybe he could show me how to grow something even half that awesome.'_

Eventually, he just settled into the ride, letting all his aches and pains settle in full force. His legs were both throbbing from the heat of the laser rounds burning into his skin. His right arm was completely ruined, and his back was littered with scars. The only part of him that was safe was his left arm, and even that was sore from carrying his injured companion.

The beard-man took them to some sort of room with tubes holding blue liquid, and placed them both inside their own container. The aches were starting to ease, but things weren't looking much better for Jean.

With the girl, though, he knew she was getting better. He heard the barded one say "thank the Force she'll be alright" and knew he had succeeded. He knew that he had finally helped someone.

With that last thought, he stopped fighting the pain wracking his body, and let himself relax into the soothing blue gel…

OOOOO

 **Hey guys!** **Long time no speak! College has been super busy, and personal crap has made it nearly impossible to focus on anything but attempting schoolwork.** **But now I'm kind of back :P**

 **I needed to get this out there.** **It's been on my mind for months, ever since I read a story called Last Second Savior by plums.** **The rest of my stories will be updated eventually, but it'll be a long process for a while.**

 **Merry Christmas, all!** **And to all a good night!**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Jean!

Chapter 2: Taking a Recess

Ahsoka Tano was bored. So very, very bored. She was almost four years older than the other learners, all of whom were about to be taken up by other Jedi Knights. Once again, she would be left alone. Once again, she would see the people she had just started to bond with be taken away from here.

Well, she had enough of that train of thought for today. She needed something to distract her from her sudden melancholy, and knew the only way to do that was by escaping the Temple yet again. When Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had to leave the room to answer a call, she knew this was her chance. Moving one of the chairs out of the way, she quietly opened the vent leading to the outside, and followed the ducts to the outside.

When she stood up, she took in a breath of fresh air. Well, as fresh as a planet turned into a city could have. Her eyes wandered until she found her haunt for the day; the darker part of town seemed to call to her. Knowing that it would take longer for Master Kenobi to find her than if she went anywhere else, she hurried down the narrow streets.

After a few minutes, Ahsoka noticed that a small group was following her. Determined to enjoy her freedom a few moments longer, she sped up as quickly as she could. Unfortunately, they were still able to start closing the distance between them. Recognizing that her freedom was ending, she stopped and waited for the other Jedi to find her.

 _'_ _They were definitely faster than usual,'_ the Togruta thought. _'_ _Maybe they already had people outside the Temple?'_

When the group caught up to her in the next minute, Ahsoka realized that these were no Jedi. Instead, she had the distinct pleasure of coming face-to-face with a mercenary droid and a couple of Rodians who were probably thinking about how much she would be worth to Coruscant's slavers. Pulling out her training saber, she prepared to face the ones in front of her. She wouldn't be a slave if she had anything to say about it.

Unfortunately, all her attention was directed in front of her, so she couldn't see the Rodian behind her draw his stun gun and pull his trigger. The next moment, she was unconscious, helpless to do anything but bear whatever they decided to put her through.

OOOOO

When she woke up, Ahsoka immediately felt something cool and comforting surrounding her. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she knew she was safe. Master Kenobi's presence was nearby, as well as someone else's. She could tell that the other person was in bad shape. Their aura was worn ragged, though the learner had no idea what could make it feel so _tattered_. And it felt like the other person was slowly fading away, as if it had gone through something truly terrible.

After a few more minutes, she had enough strength to open her eyes. The first thing she saw once her eyes focused was Master Kenobi's eyes fill with relief. His shoulders dropped all the tension they were holding in, and he placed a hand on her head.

"How are you feeling, youngling?" He asked. Seeing him care made her feel a little bit better. Still, she had questions, and maybe he had some answers.

"I'm sore, but I'll be fine in a little bit. What happened, Master? The last thing I remember was being surrounded by mercenaries, and then I fell unconscious. How did I get away from them?"

The Bearded Master's soft smile turned into a grimace. "I… I'm not entirely sure. At least a dozen bounty hunters and slavers chased you. If it wasn't for the one behind me, I doubt you would have survived otherwise." He turned his head, and Ahsoka's followed suit.

She almost wished she hadn't. He was by far the most injured person she had seen yet. His legs were burned almost beyond repair, his left arm was a mangled mess, and his right was struggling to stay _attached!_ His jaw looked like Master Yoda had Force-smacked him, and it was a miracle he wasn't dead yet.

Though it looked like he was already halfway there. She could barely see his chest move, and his skin was turning whiter than what she though was possible. Looking at his readings, Ahsoka's heart dropped as his heartrate had begun to drop. She couldn't let him die. Not when she owed him so much. He didn't even know her, and yet he went through so much pain for her safety.

Slowly rising to her feet with Master Kenobi's help, the learner inched her way to her last second savior's side. She placed her hand on his head (he had _silver_ hair! Holy crap!) and closed her eyes. Ahsoka prayed that he would recover.

If he died, she would never forgive herself for her carelessness.

OOOOO

Jean opened his eyes, and saw nothing but darkness surrounding him. He was wondering where exactly he was when a sharp pain entered his head. It was a constant ponding, this time feeling like a blazing fire was lit inside him. He tried to pool his magic to push out the flames, but that only served to make the pain worse.

Desperate for some relief, he cast an _Aguamenti_ strong enough to drown the bit-women from his old dwelling. Somehow, it at least partially worked, as the internal infernal dwindled to a mild scorching.

Recovering his senses, he looked for the origin of the heat. He felt pulled to his left, and his feet moved of their own volition. The heat grew more uncomfortable as time passed, and just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, he found something that he never could have imagined.

There was a hearth, seemingly alone amid the pitch black. Inside, there was a bright white flame. It was almost too bright to look at, and its heat was just barely tolerable. As he drew closer, the fire seemed to be drawn to him, almost yearning for his touch. To him, it felt as natural as breathing. When his hand was about to meet the fire, it suddenly erupted in flames.

He screamed for what seemed like an eternity. When he was finally able to cast another _Aguamenti_ to douse his hand, he struggled to keep himself from completely falling apart. His breathing came in quick huffs.

Eventually, his breathing calmed, and he took a closer to the nearby fire. It seemed to be… angry. The blazing heat grew even more, and the flames reached to the top of the hearth. It would have spread out towards him as well if it wasn't for a blue barrier that sprang up to contain the hungry inferno.

"What the hell was that?" Jean was speechless. Not only did the fire lean towards him, but it grew more ferocious as soon as it lost contact with him. And it felt so easy, so _right_ , to let it try to consume him. It almost felt like… it was a part of him?

 _There's no way that this is inside me, right?_ There was something that felt natural about it. It was as if it had filled a void he didn't remember having. Tentatively, the male Veela reached out with the same hand as before. _'_ _No way._ _My right hand? Seriously?_ _Why is it doing something noticeable_ now _of all times?!_ _Does this mean…?'_ He didn't dare finish that thought. If his theory was true, then things were going to get very bad. Very soon.

Desperately looking for an escape, he almost missed a door that slowly appeared beside him. His hand latched on to the door knob, yanking it open and charged through without hesitation.

Behind him, the white flames pushed out in a pure rage. The wall held, but just before the flames backed off, it left its mark; there was now a crack in the blue…

OOOOO

Gasping for air, Jean shot up like a beanstalk. He felt something wet trailing down his face; in fact, he felt wet all over his body. Looking down, he saw that he was in a tube of some blue liquid. On top of that, he only had on his boxers (which were somehow still firmly wrapped around his legs. Now THAT was magical!). Putting off the discovery he made in his dreamland, he made a mental checklist of all his damaged body parts.

 _'_ _Let's see,'_ he thought. _'_ _Arms? Check._ _Need to get new bandages for my hand, though. Legs still attached? Yup._ _Sore back? Not at all._ _Huh, this is some weird magic, to fix me up so quickly.'_ Deciding to get out and stretch his legs, he planted his feet on the floor. He also looked for something to wear on top of his undergarments; there was a worn brown shirt that lay on the edge of one of the healing pods. Luckily, it fit rather snugly against his lithe upper body. Sadly, there weren't any shorts for him to wear, but there was some fresh gauze for his right hand, fortunately.

Somehow, he doubted people would like looking at a hand burned darker than charcoal.

 _'_ _Well, here goes nothing!'_ Once he left what looked to be the hospital room of wherever he was, he began to explore.

After spending several minutes wandering the halls, he arrived in a large room that looked like it held thousands of books. Never in his life would Jean imagine so much information could be in one place. Surprisingly, there didn't seem to be many people reading.

He scoffed. If there wasn't anyone there to appreciate their beauty, then he certainly would. Walking up to the first section he came across, he realized he couldn't understand any of the symbols on the label. After hurriedly casting another language charm, the letters rearranged themselves to say _'_ _THE CODE OF THE JEDI'_. Intrigued, he dove into the texts held within. He was curious as to what his savior's beliefs were.

OOOOO

Maris Brood was mad. She was pissed. Her master was about to take her to his ship, the _Grey Pilgrim_ , for more training. At sixteen, she had already been gone from her fellow padawans for four years. She wanted to at least _try_ to make a few friends before she left. To her, it didn't matter if it was against the Jedi way: her master was too damn professional to even attempt to make a bond with, and the crew on his ship were less than thrilled at what they viewed as 'babysitting in the backwater of space'. In truth, she felt alone on that ship.

So, she decided to walk to the Library. There might be someone there that would enjoy talking with her. As she approached the entrance, she it was entirely devoid of people. Well, there was somebody near the Jedi Code section. Who would be looking up something as widely known as that, though?

Walking to the man, Maris took note of his silver hair. That wasn't something she'd ever seen before. It was quite… unique, she decided. It looked soft and fluffy, and she fought down a sudden urge to run her hand through it.

 _'_ _What am I thinking?'_ She mentally groaned. _'_ _Guess I really have been spending too much time away from people._ _By the Force, my master_ seriously _needs to take a break!'_

Lost in thought, the pale-skinned apprentice didn't notice how close she was to the one on the floor. Broken out of her head when she literally kicked him while he was down, she began to fall. Clearing her head in an instant, she knew that she was going to hit the ground, and braced herself.

When the ground didn't come to meet her, she opened her eyes. The man that she walked into had his hands high on her stomach, dangerously close to her chest.

Maris was about to pull away, but the heat from his hands was comforting. _'_ _So warm…'_ Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she pulled away, feeling a surprising pang of longing once the touch ended.

The man below her quickly pushed her into standing upright, and immediately backed away from her. His eyes (which were just as yellow as hers!) widened in fear, and he started apologizing profusely.

"I'm so so so sorry, ma'am. I wasn't intending to do anything when I touched you. Please believe me!" He actually started to hyperventilate, and this surprised Maris. She was used to the men on her master's ship undressing her with their eyes, but fear? This was a first for her.

Slowly, she lowered herself down to his level, placing her hand on one of his arms. Not only was it bandaged up to his shoulder, he flinched so strongly that his arm almost slipped out of her hand. Her eyes narrowed; he seemed terrified of what she would do to him.

With a carefully soft voice, Maris tried to calm him down. "I'm not going to do anything to you. _I_ was the one that ran into _you_. It would be stupid if I blamed you for something that was my fault."

The trembling slowed, but he was still cautious. "I can never be too sure. With me, the more beautiful a woman is, the more I get hurt for 'violating' their personal space. Why should I trust you to not do the same?"

The female Zabrak reassured him that she wouldn't do that. "I'm flattered, but I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." Her thoughts, however, were taking on a different track. _'_ _Who would do something like that?_ _He looks like a decent enough guy.'_

The fear in his eyes slowly drained away, and his trembling stopped. The man calmed down enough that he could look at her without fearing retribution. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he was finally able to speak.

"Alright. I'll hold you to that." He extended his left hand. "My name is Jean, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

She reached out with her own left hand, and saw his eyes slightly widen, like he didn't see that coming. "I'm Maris Brood, and it's nice to meet you." She looked down, noticing the text that was on the floor. "Why are you reading the Jedi Code holobooks? All Jedi should know that by heart, especially for someone as old as you."

Jean rolled his eyes, although Maris noticed he was still slightly wary of her. "Please. If I wanted to be a Jedi, then I'd have to give up on my emotions. It'll be a cold day in hell before _that_ happens."

The Zabrak was about to respond when she noticed his state of dress. She let out a teasing smirk. "Do you feel the same way about pants, then?"

Jean took a moment to register that, then he tried to go into damage control. "Well, you see, uh, there weren't exactly any, uh, pants around when I woke up…" His voice trailed off the longer he talked, and a blush covered his cheeks. Now she'd _really_ think he didn't have any sense of self-control. Well, he admitted, at least there were a few minutes that he could pretend he had a friend.

Out of all the responses he thought she would have, laughter certainly wasn't one of them. When he recovered from his surprise, he noticed that she wasn't being spiteful with her amusement. The sounds of her mirth were… nice, he decided.

"I'm just teasing you! After all, I don't think you'd be someone who'd resort to that to get into a girl's pants!" She was about to continue, but another round of laughter interrupted whatever it was she was about to say.

Letting her have her fun for a few moments more, he got things back on to their earlier topic. "As I was saying, your code isn't something that I agree with.

" _'_ _There is no emotion, there is peace'_ is a load of crap. Emotions can't just be willed away. If that was being truly upheld, then you wouldn't have laughed at my little wardrobe malfunction. You wouldn't have cared for how nervous I am around you, and you _certainly_ wouldn't have put any effort into calming me down.

" _'_ _There is no chaos, there is harmony'_ is even worse. There has never been a single instant where true harmony has _ever_ been reached where I'm from. Some inkling of emotion will be leaking through, interrupting your all-powerful "harmony" that you Jedi are always looking for."

"Frankly, I don't see how you're able to actively support something like this. Without emotions, you take away the ability to experience all the ups and downs that life has for everyone. There are going to be things that surprise you, whether for good," Jean clutched his right hand with his left "or for worse. Not allowing yourself to _feel_ is just as destructive as drowning in your feelings!"

Once he finished his rant, he realized how ragged his breathing was. Closing his eyes, Jean forced himself to calm down. It wouldn't be good to piss off someone he might be able to consider nice.

Maris was speechless. This was the first time anyone had questioned her beliefs, and she couldn't fault the logic behind his statements.

His stance on emotions held a ring of truth to it. If she were to really adhere to the Code, then she shouldn't even be enjoying this conversation. On top of that, she recalled all of the times she grew irritated with her soldiers' greedy stares, or with her master's stoic nature.

As much as his thoughts interested her, her faith in her upbringing was still resolute. "You don't know what you're talking about. The Jedi Order has stood for thousands of years, and people have followed our creed without fail." She advanced on Jean, her face inches away from his, her voice rising in volume. "Since it looks like this is your first time seeing this, you don't get to have a say in how we practice!"

Hearing a whimper, Maris blinked. Her face was almost touching his, and he was quivering slightly. He was probably expecting her to start throwing punches at him. Berating herself for her lack of control, she backs up and attempts to get out of the hole that she dug herself in.

Even more hesitant than before, she held her hands at her side in a placating manner. She didn't want her first potential friendship ruined because she reacted violently when she heard an opinion that differed from hers. "Jean, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you; I've just never had anybody challenge my views before, and I took it very badly. Can you forgive me?"

Jean was shocked. Someone was actually _apologizing_ to him. _'_ _This is the first time anyone thought that_ they _were in the wrong._ _From what I can tell, she seems to be honest in her apologies._ _Maybe…'_ Still trembling, he began to speak.

"I-I forgive you, M-Maris. I k-know that I'm going against something that you've b-believed in your whole l-life. I need to learn h-how to talk without offending everyone around m-me. I hope that you c-can forgive _me_ for being s-so insensitive."

Fearful of her reaction, Jean slowly raised his head. To his surprise, Maris was smiling softly at him. "Of course I forgive you, and I'm glad that you can forgive me. Maybe we can talk about this more later, when you're more properly clothed?"

Jean chuckled at her poorly attempted at humor. He could get used to someone being nice to him. "Agreed. I need to head back to the Medical Wing. It was interesting getting to meet you." He walked past her, and started down the hallway. Or he would have, if not for hearing Maris's voice echoing behind him.

"That's the way to the hangar," she said with barely contained mirth. "Would you like an escort to our hospital?"

Rolling his eyes, Jean turned around with a pleased grin. "I would appreciate that, Maris. By all means, lead the way."

OOOOO

Together, the Veela and Jedi Padawan make their way to the hospital. Maris mentioned the most notable parts of the Temple: the area where younglings are learning to control their infant connection to the Force, their workshop where new padawans construct their own lightsabers, and the dozens of meditation chambers scattered throughout the building. Overall, Jean was impressed with the amount of effort the Jedi put into training themselves.

Once they arrived at the hospital, there were a trio of people standing in front of the entrance. Jean recognized Epic Beard Man talking with the Red Skinned Girl from earlier and a Baby Face Man. As they draw closer, the Red Skinned Girl turns and bolts into his arms, locking him into a tight hug. Instinctively freezing for a moment, he recovers enough to give her an awkward pat on her back. Her hug tightens, and he starts to struggle to breath.

Maris, who watched the Togruta padawan wrap her new friend in a hug, felt something stir from within her. A growl threatened to escape her throat, but she caught it in time.

 _'_ _What's wrong with me?'_ she thought. _'_ _Jean doesn't even like hugs._ _I shouldn't be annoyed by this at all.'_

 _'…_ _Right?'_

OOOOO

 **Hello again! I am really loving what I have planned for the rest of this story.** **A friend of mine is helping me flesh this thing out, and I have the next dozen chapters thought up.** **It's just a matter of writing them all down.**

 **Thank you all for reading this second installment, and I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: All These Awkward Conversations…

Jean really didn't get why the Red Girl was crushing him in a _tight_ hug! The only reason anyone got that close to him was to hide the crotch shots they were preparing. With her, though, there wasn't the sound of a fist clenching, nor the shifting associated with a knee thrust. She may not have intended to do so, but the male Veela was _very_ confused. Nobody had touched him without trying to cause him harm.

Except for Maris. The pale woman _apologized_ for being inside his personal bubble. That was even newer than getting positive affection, and surprisingly more comforting.

Baby Face Man cleared his throat, then smiled. "Ahsoka, he needs to breath. It wouldn't do to accidentally kill your savior, would it?"

Blushing in embarrassment, Ahsoka pulled away, and shyly looked at the ground. In doing so, however, the young Togruta had a front row seat to his state of dress, or lack thereof. She let out a tiny 'eep' and turned around, blushing at the man's boxers.

Epic Beard Man and Baby Face were both trying and failing to hold back their laghter, with Baby Face Man quickly devolving into clutching his sides and barking with laughter. Now it was Jean's turn to blush and turn his head away from them.

A minute or two passed before the Veela turned back to face the Epic Beard Man, and the two locked eyes. Beardy's eyes widened, and his hands went to the cylinder on his belt. Both Jean and Ahsoka wondered why he was doing that, with Ahsoka questioning why he was getting ready to draw his weapon on someone clearly defenseless. Before he could grab his saber, Baby Face shot him a look, and Beard Man's hand stopped trembling, eventually falling back to his side. Raising his brow in curiosity, Baby Face gave him a look that said 'later'.

"My apologies. My old master has some bad memories from someone with your eye color." Jean's curiosity turned into bewilderment.

 _'My eye color? Since when does yellow trigger a relapse?'_ Clearing his mind, he nodded at Baby Face. "It's alright. I'm used to a much more violent reaction whenever people see me." This got both men to raise their eyebrows slightly, and they both looked like they wanted to ask him a question.

Maris moved her arm in front of him. "Jean has his own troubles with the past. He's going to share his story when he's good and ready, and not a moment before."

Jean was touched by her kindness, and flashed her a small smile that seemed to lift her spirits a little. The Jedi Knight and Master wondered where such affection came from, but decided to put that to the side for now. They wanted to properly introduce themselves to the person that saved Ahsoka for seemingly no reason.

Epic Beard Man spoke up first. "Of course. My apologies. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master of the Republic. It is nice to finally speak to the one who saved Anakin's padawan apprentice."

Baby Fa- Anakin, took the cue he was offered. "Indeed. My name is Anakin Skywalker, and I am Ahsoka's Master, as well as Obi-Wan's old apprentice. I cannot thank you enough for doing something so selfless for somebody you didn't even know. I am in your debt, sir. Within reason, I will do whatever I can to pay you back."

Cringing internally at the formal tone Anakin was using, as well as the unnecessary bowing, Jean set out to fix that little situation. "It was no trouble, really. I'm sure any one of your comrades would have done the same. Seeing a child being kidnapped and beaten and defenseless would motivate any decent person to do the same thing."

Obi-Wan and Anakin were gob smacked. Nobody in their right mind would brush off a favor from _Anakin Skywalker_ of all people. That he did spoke volumes of his character, and the former master-apprentice duo gained some more respect for him.

Ahsoka and Maris widened their eyes at his declaration. While the Zabrak was admiring his blasé-fair attitude over risking his life, Ahsoka blushed in embarrassment again.

"Actually, I wouldn't be so sure about that. I'm known for being… unconventional, among the Jedi Order. It gets under a lot of people's skin, and I think some would be happy to see my disappearance become permanent." Her eyes were downcast, and her eyes looked like they were getting glassy.

Jean's anger was smoldering at her statement. His knuckles went white from his grip, and his eyes hardened at the idea that somebody wanted to get rid of someone for stating their _opinion_. The young Veela felt like he had found a kindred spirit. Before he could voice his opinion on the stupidity of her 'colleagues', however, her Master beat him to the punch.

If Jean thought he was reacting strongly, then Anakin was about to explode. His face was turning a very deep shade of red, and he was tightening his fists so much he could hear the cracking in his leather gloves. "Ahsoka, enough of that! The only way they could even _hope_ to do that would be over my dead body! I'm not losing you to some jerk whose ego is too fragile to handle an argument. Understood?"

Ahsoka looked relieved to hear her master say that, and her worried frown turned into a small smile. She walked back to Anakin, and gave him a hug. He was clearly surprised, but he had the presence of mind to return it, if only briefly.

Jean's heart clenched at the scene in front of him. It brought flashbacks to the way the women in his old village had held each other; Affectionately and tenderly, as if there was no place they'd rather be. He certainly never had any positive physical interaction from any of them. As happy as he was for Ahsoka and Anakin, he felt his own eyes starting to water, and turned away. He didn't want to ruin their happy moment with his poorly hidden tears.

Maris noticed Jean's reaction to the scene in front of them, and her heart ached for the pain he must be going through. Putting a hand on his shoulder, the half-dressed man swerved his head toward her. Seeing the look in she gave him, Jean let a small smile of appreciation show, and he cleared his eyes of the tears threatening to spill.

Taking in both tender interactions, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Yes, well, I do think we should return to the Medical Bay. After all, we wouldn't want our pants-less friend to catch a cold, would we?"

The other four let out a chorus of laughter that rang out in the wide halls of the temple. Recovering first, Jean quickly walked towards the pod-thing that he emerged from a few hours ago, where he saw a fresh pair of pants and shirt hanging to the side. Putting them on, he turned around to see the four Jedi staring at his back.

 _'Wait a minute, why are they…?_ ' The Veela followed their eyes, and froze as he saw where they were looking.

There were dozens of marks scattered across his back. Some were mostly faded, whitening to a color only slightly paler than Maris's skin. A small cluster of lines on the small of his back were a little darker, indicating that this incident had taken place somewhat more recently. Most disturbing, however, was the deep reddish purple gash going from his right shoulder blade to the bottom of his ribs. It seemed as though the two months he spent in the Bacta tanks didn't do a thing.

Sighing, Jean put on the pants, and turned around to face his now captive audience. "Long story short, my village didn't particularly appreciate my humor. I was their glorified slave, and my back is a painting of their… displeasure, with my performances."

A stunned silence fell over the group. They were so quiet that Jean could hear himself breathing. _'Dammit. At least I had_ a _bond with my village, even if it_ was _entirely abusive. Now these guys are going to hate me just like everyone else.'_ He quickly put on the shirt, and tried to walk past them, to the library.

A hand grabbed his arm, holding him in place. Looking up, his eyes met Anakin's, and he saw a look of understanding, of mutual pain. Jean was surprised that someone as capable looking as _him_ could have ever been put into slavery. Though he supposed that he shouldn't have; those with the strongest wills often would have been utterly destroyed without them.

And from the look in Anakin's eyes, his suffering was _at least_ as bad as his own, if not worse. Jean nodded in understanding, and gently but firmly pulled away from the group. "I'm heading back to the library," he mumbled. "If you need to look for me, just ask Maris. I'll be in the same place." With a wry smile, the male Veela slowly walked away from the group of Jedi.

After a few minutes of shared silence, Obi-Wan spoke up, his voice carrying an unmistakable tone of steel. "Uncivilized is too good of a word to use on the scum that did that to him." With that said, he began walking towards his clone's barracks.

As he strode away, Anakin called out to him. "What are you going to do?"

Without turning around, the bearded master responded. "What do you think? I'm going to find him and make sure he's able to defend himself. We owe him that much, at least."

OOOOO

Jean needed to get back to the library. Learning was good, it was safe. Books wouldn't be looking at his scars, nor would they tell him that _this_ was the reason he couldn't make any friends. His body was too grotesque for children to not be afraid of him, and the adults just _loved_ showing off their superiority.

If only he had mastered the Crucio sooner. It wouldn't have done anything to stop his abusers, but it would've made him feel better.

As he began walking down the long hallway to the library, he realized he didn't have an much of any actual magical knowledge. He had three books to work with: _Magic for Beginners, The Laws of Transfiguration,_ and _Potion Planning._ He had to copy them from the elders' library, so he ended up spending a year on each book.

Currently, he was only about a third of the way through _Magic for Beginners_. Being the village's whipping boy didn't leave him with a lot of time to read up on more than the basic _accio_ and _repulse_ spells, _Levicorpus_ (the topsy-turvy one, he thought with a chuckle), and _somehow_ apparation.

He still didn't understand how he pulled it off, especially since he had never tried it before. There had to be _some_ reason it worked on his first attempt.

As he pondered this, his right arm began to grow warm. Warmer than usual, at least. Jean's right arm was usually a little hotter than the rest of him, but right now it was hot enough that he could feel sweat starting to drip down his face and back. His vision swam; biting his lip gave him only minimal relief, and he could already feel his legs giving out. He fell to one knee, dizzy and gasping for air, desperate for relief.

As quickly as the inferno came, it disappeared. His breathing came to him as easy as before, although the sweat dripping off his body persisted. Taking a few minutes to catch his breath, Jean checked his surroundings. Thankfully, only one person had seen his struggle, so maybe he could...

A hand entered his field of vision. "Are you alright?" the man in question asked. He had shaved blonde hair and dark brown eyes. His armor was striped with blue, and there was a blue handprint on his chest plate.

 _'He's a pure alpha,'_ Jean thought. _'he could probably kill me in a second if he really wanted to.'_ While Anakin and Obi-Wan certainly seemed capable in their own rights, this man had an air of professionalism that neither of the Jedi seemed to have. It would pay him well to respect this man.

He grabbed the offered hand and pulled himself up. Now that he was on his feet, Jean noticed that he was a good few inches shorter than the friendly stranger. As much as he wanted to tell him what _really_ just happened, he decided not to. The man in the armor would probably think he was crazy, and he did _not_ need the deck to be stacked against him!

"Thanks for the help. I'm just recovering from a fever, and I still get hot flashes from time to time." By this point, his sweat had finally dried, but his shirt still held the evidence of his moment of weakness.

The armored man raised an eyebrow (okay, that was _way_ too familiar to be a coincidence), but didn't press the issue. Jean's gratitude must've been on display, because he started talking again. "Well, I hope you can find your way to the sick bay before your… fever… knocks you out." He put his hand down again, this time for a handshake. "The name's Rex."

The Veela let a tight smile plant itself on his face, and met the offered hand once again. "And mine is Jean. I'm not from around here, so forgive me if I say or do something stupid."

Rex let out a bark of laughter, and Jean could see his eyes light up in mirth. "You're the first person I've met besides General Skywalker to be that blunt. I feel like we're going to be good friends, Jean." He tilted his head to the side for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then, he put his hand on the Veela's shoulder. "You know what? I'm going to get you an education on what 'normal' is around here. Follow me."

And with that, Jean followed Rex to one of the hundreds of hangars on the planet, where he was introduced to what exactly 'normal' meant for bored clone troopers in Coruscant.

 _'I'm screwed…'_

OOOOO

 **It's been a loooooong time, hasn't it? I bet some of you guys thought I'd leave this story forever, just like my other three, eh? Well, I'll burst that bubble and tell you what's really happening.**

 **College + personal life drama = constantly feeling tired. I've lost a lot of motivation for writing, with this story being the only exception. I've rewritten this chapter at least four times trying to lengthen it, but nothing would work. I can't promise anything about the lengths of these next several chapters, but they** ** _will_** **have my 100% effort. No exceptions :)**

 **On that note, I bid you all a good night. I hope Christmases were jolly, Spring Breaks were flooded by beach party-ers, and that tests are aced!**

 **PS: In case anyone has been confused this whole time, Jean is a French name. I don't know how to write the pronunciation, though, so I leave deciphering that in your capable hands ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Harry Potter nor Star Wars, and I am super duper sad. If anyone wants to get me the rights to either, I'll be your best friend! :)**

OOOOO

"Come on, get back up! I'm barely warmed up over here," Rex barked. "I'm getting bored kicking your shebs, Jean!"

Muttering a string of curses that would make anyone from his old village drop their jaw, Jean leapt back to his feet, fists raised in a somewhat shaky defensive stance. The older trooper gave him 'a chance to have a sparring partner'. Thinking nothing of it, he agreed, knowing he could use a self-defense teacher.

What he didn't realize, however, was that Rex wasn't a teacher; he was closer to a one-man monster of an army hiding in a suit of flesh. Every punch was blocked with almost contemptuous ease, every kick was dodged so swiftly that Jean felt he was chasing an afterimage, and he couldn't go on the offensive for more than a second before the more experienced man began his own counterattacking. Even on the defensive, he couldn't last more than a dozen seconds against him.

 _'At least this is getting me_ some _results,'_ Jean thought. _'I went from getting knocked down in three seconds to over ten! Hooray...'_.

"Come on, pasty! Even rookies can get at least one hit in!" a soldier on the side jeered. He was still unnerved by the fact that the clones were, well, _clones_. How they can tell each other apart, Jean had no idea. Still, they all seemed to be decent at heart, if a little more aggressive than usual.

When Rex took him to the hangar, he was surrounded by at least ten others that looked almost identical to Rex. They all introduced themselves, but he knew it was going to take a while before he had even half of the clones memorized. And there were millions of them…

They all loved fighting in their spare time. The clones wanted to see how good the 'new guy' was, since _Rex_ of all people introduced him. In the end, the clone commander said that he would be the only one fighting him for today, as Jean (the other clones all raised eyebrows at hearing the name) needed to know how to fight if he was staying for any length of time.

And indeed, he was learning how to fight like a soldier would. His posture was already good; legs turned outward, fists raised to cover grapples and headlocks, and a slight lean forward all helped him react just barely fast enough to avoid getting caught in a continuous thrashing.

On the other hand, his opponent was _far_ more intelligent than anyone he'd ever faced before. Since nobody from his world was willing to touch him, the smartest creatures he ever faced before were the wolves and bears in the forests of England. Rex was on an entirely different level. He knew how Jean would fight (since he was the one teaching him), and he looked experienced enough to be prepared for any surprises thrown in his face.

Sighing to himself, Jean mustered up what was left of his strength for one last try. Rex nodded in approval, and they began circling each other. Outside of the occasional jab, neither of them seemed intent on engaging each other just yet.

Rex decided that it was time to put an end to this session. At the cost of a glancing blow to his head courtesy of Jean's left fist, he dived inside Jean's guard and delivered a trio of punches to his ribs. Hunched over, he wasn't prepared to defend against Rex's headlock. The clone commander jumped, twisting to the side so that Jean's stomach would be crushed between the ground and Rex's shoulder.

What he didn't expect to see was a pained grin on his vict-sparring partner's face. Before he knew it, he felt a fist on his diaphragm. It wasn't enough to throw off Rex, but it was enough to loosen his hold so that the blow to Jean was softened. Despite this, his ribs were still crushed between Rex's shoulder and the ground beneath him.

Rex was able to get up, albeit with a little difficulty. Jean, however, was dazed and unable to get up for several minutes. When his breathing settled, Rex offered his hand with a grin on his face. In Rex's history of sparring matches, he had never seen someone improve so quickly in just one match. It wouldn't be for a while yet, but Rex could see Jean become a fierce fighter.

"You did well, trooper," Rex said. "I've never seen anyone learn that much in one match with me."

Pulling up to his feet, Jean smirked. "I spend most of my time learning from watching what others do." He grimaced. "This is the first time I was able to actually participate in something productive."

They held solid poker faces faces, but Rex and his troopers grimaced internally. If this was the _first_ time he'd ever done _anything_ with _anyone_ … Rex's respect for the man went up a notch. He was about to open his mouth, when his communication device went off.

 _"Come in, Rex."_

"General Skywalker?" he asked. Jean snapped his head towards Rex, recognizing the voice and wondering how he knew him. Then again, it made sense; Rex was likely his subordinate, and Baby Face Man probably told Rex to keep an eye on him, and make sure he didn't do anything reckless and/or stupid. Jean felt a surge of gratitude for the man, resolving to repay his kindness as soon as possible.

 _"Bring Jean to the entrance of the Jedi Temple. Something has come up with the Council, and they require his presence."_

Rex nodded slightly to himself. "Understood, general. I'll bring Jean to you as soon as possible." Turning to his sparring partner, Rex beckoned him with his hand. "Come on, then. If the council wants to see you, it has to be something important."

It was almost imperceptible, but Rex saw his companion narrow his eyes at the mention of the council. "Very well, then. Please lead the way."

OOOOO

The walk to the Temple was filled with a tense silence. Jean was filled with a slowly growing sense of apprehension of dread. Despite his best efforts, the teen Veela couldn't stop himself from drawing parallels to his own _esteemed_ _council_. The condemnation, the glares, the hatred, the _fear_ that he received replayed in his mind over and over again.

Unbeknownst to him, Rex observed his emotional turmoil with a mixture of confusion and concern. Surely, he wouldn't have a reason to mistrust General Skywalker's comrades?

Then again, General Skywalker himself became frustrated with the Council from time to time. Whether it was because of his actions or his general personality, seeing the Commander at odds with his superiors wasn't an uncommon sight.

And then there was the briefing the General gave him on Jean. He didn't go into much detail out of respect for his new friend, but Rex was intelligent enough to realize that Jean and Skywalker likely had similar upbringings, so he could see why Jean wouldn't be looking forward to meeting with the Council.

When they arrived at the entrance of the Temple, Rex was surprised at the size of the group. General Skywalker with his apprentice, Ahsoka, General Kenobi, and a pale woman the clone had never seen before. Coming to a stop a few feet in front of the Jedi, Rex saluted Skywalker.

Anakin waved off his salute. "At ease, Rex. Thank you for bringing Jean to us." Once he relaxed, the Jedi Knight let a grin etch itself onto his lips. "So, did he pass your test?"

Matching Anakin's grin with one of his own, Rex nodded. "He's unpolished, but he managed to get a solid hit on me right before you called."

Everyone's eyes (except Maris') widened in surprise. Rex was one of the best clones the Republic had to offer. For Jean to land a good hit after sparring for barely an hour…

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the brief silence. "I've still got a long while to go before I can even put up a halfway decent fight. Anyway, isn't there a council that wants to interrogate me?"

At this, the joking mood disappeared. Wanting to calm his nerves, Obi-Wan gently rebutted him. "There won't be any interrogation on my watch. I myself am a member of the council. I'll make sure they won't push too far. Anakin will be there as well, so there'll be nothing to worry about."

Jean felt somewhat better, but the tension didn't lessen at all. Two friends were helpful, but he had no idea how many people would be against him from the get-go.

His eyes showed his resignation. "Thank you, but I'm not sure how much good that will bdo. In my experience, people are afraid of the unknown. They'd rather try to control or destroy the unfamiliar than understand it." With that said, he proceeded to walk past the Jedi and enter the room, when two hands stopped him.

Looking to his side, he saw that both Ahsoka and Maris had a hand on one of his arms. Caught off guard, he looked to Ahsoka first.

The Togruta's eyes narrowed, hard as steel. "They won't do any such thing. Not if we have anything to say about it." Her lips then curved into a smile. "Have some faith in us, ok?"

Wide-eyed, Jean nodded, then turned to Maris. If Ahsoka surprised him, then the Zabrak's reaction definitely threw him for a loop. Her hand was gripping his right arm firmly, yet still gentle enough to keep him from experience any pain. As if that wasn't confusing enough, her eyes were practically _glowing!_

"The only way they're going to hurt you is through the four of us. Is. That. Clear?" To emphasize her point, her hand tightened just enough to feel echoes of pain on his right arm. Eager to get out of both girl's grips, Jean hurriedly shook his head in the affirmative.

Masking his confusion, he forced a smile on his face. "Crystal. No more pessimism from me!" The girls both eyed him curiously, but grudgingly accepted his words at face value.

The raven-headed Veela, alongside Anakin and Obi-Wan, walked inside the Council chambers, leaving the girls and Rex waiting outside.

OOOOO

Out of the dozen members on the Council, five were there in person, while the rest were all in a blueish-white projection. Upon walking into the chamber of the Jedi Council, Jean was immediately taken aback by just how different the members were. There were two humans including Obi-Wan, the other being bald and black; he held the eyes of someone who held very little humor, and he looked like he was at least dozens of times stronger than Rex. A humanoid with purple _things_ coming from his head had a permanent scowl on his face, and an obviously female figure was entirely _blue_ and had similar appendages. Just looking at her made Jean start to blush, but he blinked and fought it down before his staring became impolite. The woman in question raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but said nothing.

Getting back to his observations, Jean felt his eyes drawn to the figure in the middle. He was short and green, and he held a cane in one of his three-fingered hand. He looked calm, but the Veela could tell that he was more than his appearance. He could tell the green being held much power, even more so than the black man. Out of everyone in the room, Jean knew that this small person would be the one he had to get on his side.

Jean was staring so intently at him that he nearly jumped when the green man spoke. "Greetings, young one. Heard much about you from Obi-Wan, we have. Grandmaster Yoda of the Jedi Council, I am, and ask questions, we must."

After taking a few moments to decode his speech, Jean nodded. "That's understandable. I've been living off of your hospitality for far too long, and you probably have a lot of things to ask me. I'll answer your questions."

Nodding his head in thanks, Yoda looked to the black man. "If you please, Master Windu, your question."

The now dubbed Windu turned from Yoda to Jean. "Master Obi-Wan reported that you saved Padawan Ahsoka Tano from a band of mercenaries, nearly costing you your life. Why would you do make so many enemies for someone whom you've never known before that moment?"

Jean's face took on a look of irritation. "I know what it's like to be completely helpless, to not have anyone to rely on. When I saw her being prodded like a piece of meat, I just got really angry. I had to do something, you know?" He saw Obi-Wan's face tighten into a grimace, but he couldn't figure out why. He resolved to ask him about that after the meeting.

Mace seemed to have accepted his answer, but Jean noticed that his eyes narrowed when he talked about his anger. The Jedi Master then turned to the blue woman. "Master Secura, I believe it is your turn."

The blue-skinned humanoid let out a smirk, looking at Jean. "The entire time you've been in the Temple, we haven't been able to feel your Force presence at all. How are you able to hide it so perfectly?"

Now this threw Jean for a loop. "What are you talking about? I don't have any idea what this 'Force' is. I use magic." He must have said something wrong, because he felt several condescending glares aimed at him. Even Master Secura gave him a deadpan look, as if he was stupid.

The man with the purple montrails actually _laughed_. "Preposterous. You must be from one of the most backwater planets in the galaxy if you think the Force can be explained as 'magic'. Now tell us your real reasons for hiding your presence from us!"

Going on the defensive, Jean turned on the Master, his eye glowing with rage. "Listen here, sir. I am not comfortable being judged by people I've never seen nor heard of. The only reason I'm even here is because Master Kenobi promised me I wouldn't be ridiculed; obviously, he overestimated your maturity and underestimated your ego. I have no idea _what_ this Force you're talking about is, I don't know _where_ I am, and I have no _fucking_ idea why I ended up here." He turned to look at the other Masters. "So before you shit on everything I am and what I believe is true, I would appreciate being at least treated with a _miniscule_ amount of respect, _ton culot_ *!"

Silence reigned in the room. With the exception of Yoda, everyone's eyes widened to dinner-plate size. Anakin, who had remained silent for the entirety of the meeting thus far, put a hand on his new friend's shoulder, deciding that now was the best time to speak up.

"Jean, they're not trying to be so condescending, even though _some_ of us might be acting that way." After glaring at Master Tiin, he continued. "Remember that we really have no idea what you're capable of; all we have to go off of is what Obi-Wan described as you apparently teleporting in front of him. Now that we're in a war, the Council wants as much information as possible so they don't have to think of you as a threat."

Listening to his words, Jean let the anger ease out of his body. Taking in a few deep breaths to center himself, he gave an appreciative glance towards Anakin, then looked to the rest of the Council, pointedly ignoring Tiin. Whether it was out of embarrassment or pettiness, even he couldn't tell.

"I apologize for not realizing the situation you're all in. I'll tell you _some_ of what I can do, and answer any questions after the fact to the best of my ability. I won't tell you everything, though; I'm not a fan of sharing every little detail."

Looking around the room, Jean's eyes locked onto one of the free chairs. Reaching out with his left hand, he muttered "Accio". The chair flew towards him, and he caught it before it landed on top of him.

"I can use an internal supply of _magic_ ," Jean's eyes briefly shot to Master Tiin, daring him to speak up, "to cast spells. In addition to pulling things towards me, I can also push them away." With a flick of his hand, he sent the chair back to its' former place. "It's easier to use magic to cast the spell, but I can also maintain it. Unfortunately, I have to use a constant stream of my magic to continue casting it. If I use too much of it, I'll fall unconscious."

After a moment of silence, Obi-Wan spoke. "How much magic can your body hold?"

Jean scrunched his face in concentration. "Well, I'm not really sure. My people's magic is like a muscle. The more it gets used, the stronger it gets and the longer we could use it. There hasn't been any way to measure the exact amount of magic inside someone." He shrugged. "I guess… I could have a potentially limitless amount of magic at my disposal."

Once again, everyone in the room was rendered speechless. Even Yoda's jaw dropped a little; there was somebody besides the Sith that could evade their watch, and could have limitless power. Though a part of the Grandmaster's mind was worried about Jean's lack of emotional control, he also realized he was being overly paranoid. He was genuinely lost in an unfamiliar world, maybe even from an unfamiliar galaxy.

Yoda's heart went out to the young man, and decided to spare him from answering any further questions. "To go, free you are. Knight Skywalker, to the guest rooms take him. Dismissed, this Council meeting is."

Sending the Grandmaster a look of gratitude, Jean followed Anakin towards the exit. Before he left the room, however, Obi-Wan's voice rang out. "Master Tiin, I would not recommend doing something as uncivilized as drawing your weapon to intimidate an unarmed civilian. Surely you're not _that_ petty."

Whipping his head, Jean saw that Tiin had grabbed a cylindrical object, with one open-ended side. The purple-skinned Master glowered at Obi-Wan, slowly holstering his weapon. Jean turned to his bearded friend, bowing his thanks.

As Jean left the room, the pressure in his chest lightened. He gained acceptance from at least part of the Council, and he even managed to get a room with an actual _bed_!

 _'I can't believe this'_ the awe-struck Veela thought. _'Is my luck finally turning around?'_ The smile on Jean's face would remain for several hours afterwards.

Unfortunately, there were other forces besides the Jedi Council at work. Unbeknownst to Jean, this would be the last time he could afford to feel safe.

OOOOO

 **And that's all for this chapter. These chapters are getting pretty hard to expand upon, but I'm still here! I'm not going to give up on this story anytime soon :)**

 **I have to give credit where credit is due. I have two betas to bounce ideas off of. Matthew and Ryan are both great at helping me develop my story. Without them, I would have probably given up on this by chapter 2. Thank you both for helping me this much!**

 **Merry Summer to all, and to all a good swimsuit season ;)**


	5. Apologies

Hey guys! Sorry for the extremely long delay, but things have gotten crazy insane over the past year. Between finishing my first year of college, a nonstop summer, and getting waaaaaay in over my head as a sophomore have kept me VERY busy until now. Unfortunately, the plot bunnies have left all of my stories except for my Dragon Age & Fire Emblem crossover, which I will be remaking through the next several weeks. If anyone would like to take any of the other three stories, please PM me. Otherwise, all of my stories besides "Wrath of the Taint" will be deleted forever by next Sunday.

I plan on updating on a monthly basis at the very least, so don't lose hope just yet! I shall make a glorious return, my friends and fans! :)


End file.
